air. "But I impose as a condition that every day I cannot come to see her she shall come to see me."

Mrs. Seymore resolved to make hay while the sun shone. So wary had she been that she believed herself to have baffled suspicion, and that she was no longer watched, at least, not closely.

"I have insisted on our meeting every day," the wily lady thought, "and that will look as though I am lonely and see no one else. Then those two simpletons are so much taken up with each other, and so full of preparations for their journey, that they have no time to think of me."

But for four days yet, the widow waited, carrying herself with circumspection, receiving no doubtful person, seeing Cora every day, and retiring early at night.

"I shut my house at seven o'clock," she said, to Miss Stanley. "I am giving myself a thorough rest while Cora is here, for when she comes back I have resolved to dissipate during the short time I have her with me. Every night when you sit down to dinner you can fancy that I am sitting in wrapper and sandals warming my feet preparatory to going to bed. I wouldn't admit the president if he should come after seven o'clock."

Major Winfield turned abruptly away to hide a slight involuntary contortion of his face.

"I wonder if she would admit the provostmarshal," he thought.

"Now for action!" thought the lady, exnltingly, as she stepped into her carriage after having taken an affectionate leave of her friends.

At seven o'clock punctually the windows of Mrs. Seymore's parlors became dark. One who watched outside saw the light turned off. The curtains had not been put down for the evening, and everything in the room was perfectly visible. The lady's sleeping-room was on the same floor and directly behind the parlor, and through the open door of this back room the light shone, and showed faintly the slender form of Mrs. Seymore, seated for a while before the fire, or walking slowly about in the parlor. When the last flicker of the fire had subsided to the glow of coals, she rose as if weary, approached the front windows and stood there a minute looking out into the evening, then retired to her chamber and closed the door after her, leaving the parlor in darkness.

Half an hour afterwards a soft step entered

the darkened room, drew down the green linen inner curtains, leaving the white ones next the windows half up, closed the shutters tightly, and loosening the heavy purple draperies, let them sweep the carpet. A person watching from the outside could see no change in the windows, but they were so darkened that not a ray of light could escape from within. That being made sure, the gas was lighted, showing Mrs Seymore dressed in sandals and wrapper, so that if any unexpected visitor should come, she would have the appearance of having just risen from bed to receive him, the fire was replenished, the door leading into the entry was locked, those leading out through the chamber being left open, the gas was shaded, and a small table pushed up before the fire and four chairs placed around it. These preparations made, she seated herself and waited, listening to every sound.

As the hand of the clock approached twelve there was a faint noise that seemed to come from the story above, a slight rattling, as if a lock or hasp were shaken. The watcher started up and went to the inner room, listened there till the sound was repeated, then glided with noiseless steps up the stairs leading to the top of the house.

The lady, it will be perceived, had adopted the unique fashion of receiving her visitors through the top instead of the lower part of her house. A building at the end of the block, used as a boarding-house, communicated with the roof of the next house by means of a ladder, and from there the way was easy.

In a few minutes Mrs. Seymore reentered her parlor attended by three gentlemen.

One was a handsome, young man of twentyeight, perhaps, whose countenance expressed only a reckless amusement at the singularity of their mode of meeting. This one the others called Lester. A bold, desperate fellow, one could see at a glance, and a spendthrift, if the richness of his dress could be taken as any indication of character. He entered first and seated himself at the table with the air of one about to amuse himself with a game of cards, instead of playing for lives and the fate of a nation. After him followed Mr. Sanford, a gentleman of about forty-five, who had one of those broad, colorless faces which suggest the idea of something clammy and cold. His hair was light and straight, his eyes an uncertain, bluish gray, dull and sullen in expression, and his thin, hard mouth showed a dogged resolution and firmness. One would not expect this

man to relent after having entered on any path, or taken a resolve. Mr. Canby, the third, was of different make and character, and a few years older. He was evidently a man of polished manners, and if not more merciful, had certainly a gentler way of being cruel. His sharp, black eyes flashed searchingly about the room as he entered, and he immediately saluted his hostess with a graceful bow as soon as the light enabled him to see her, placed a chair at the table for her, and waited for her to be seated before seating himself. This man had talked with the president that very day, had shaken hands with senators and members of the cabinet, and was a person of high standing, and unquestioned loyalty.

"I am out of patience with such weak arguments," Mrs. Seymore said, after they had talked a while. "I despise those inconsistent persons who can spill torrents of the blood of hireling foes, but who shrink from the sight of one tiny rivulet flowing from the heart to which the hireling looks for courage and command, and without which the weapon would fall from his hand. I despise those who would gladly blow up a regiment or an army, but who shiver at the idea of shooting

one man."

There was a momentary silence, the two elder men sitting with downcast eyes, a little disconcerted by the lady's impatient interruption; the younger regarding her with a smile of admiration on his bold face.

She was beautiful in her way, but not with a beauty calculated to inspire affection. Her whole appearance suggested the idea of a frost image. Her face was pale to the lips, and her light blue eyes had a clear, cold sparkle. Even her anger was chilly rather than impassioned, and her glance pierced but did not warm.

reward which he expects, and it is promised." "And you, madam?" asked Mr. Canby, with an insinuating smile.

"O, I shall have an approving conscience, and the thanks of the empire," she laughed. "Meantime," remarked the gentleman," our chickens are not hatched."

The lady's merriment passed as instantly

as it came.

66

True, but the time has come. Our friends whom I have mentioned agree with me fully that certain men whom they name must die, and while the North is paralyzed by the blow our army will overpower and bind it. There is no need to change the plan relative to the senators and Seward. No better could be formed. Lester must see to that, for of course his assistants must not come here, and I cannot see them elsewhere. I am impatient and angry when I think how well it might have been done last summer. A sharp-shooter, like Lester here, could have been concealed out on Fourteenth street, and could have shot the patriarch as he was being driven into the city. I was to have been driving past at the time, and the man could have concealed himself in the seat of my carriage. I had the box changed on purpose, and an air-hole cut under the cushion valance. The carriage with him in it could have been driven to the stable, and ordered round again towards evening on some pretext. When I got out at home again he could have gone in with me, concealed by the darkness, and the rest would have been easy. If the whole plan had been well carried out there would have been but little search. There should have been a raid up the valley at the same time, with Mosby or Jackson ready to rush into Washington, In the confusion caused by that first blow everything else could have been accomplished. But it is useless to lament what is past. We are here

She answered in a whisper more distinct than if the words had been spoken aloud.

"I propose to make the presidential chair vacant."

"Willingly! But how?"

"A., M., and C. propose it," she continued, without noticing the question. "And they will restore your estate to you, and sevenfold more, Mr. Canby. Our young friend here—” with a faint smile toward Mr. Lester" will have twenty thousand dollars down, a colonel's commission, and fifty thousand at the end of the war. Mr. Sanford has already named the

As I said, the plan regarding the others is to stand. With regard to the head, a new one must be formed. All we need do is to watch. He is careless beyond belief. He goes about the city at night with only one person with him, and sometimes alone. One evening last week he was out at ten o'clock entirely alone. G. saw him, and had the other parts of the affair been arranged, could have stricken him down on the instant and escaped. One plan now is this; Mrs. M. gives a dinner next week before her friends leave for England. It is to be very private, only a dozen or so going, and the president is one. He must never enter

the White House alive after he goes out on that evening. Let the right man dog the carriage and watch his chance, let him strike, if he has to do it on the very threshold of the door. J. will get rid of the coachman and put himself in his place, if we do not see a better arrangement before the time comes." "A bold scheme," said Mr. Canby.

"Bold! Yes!" she exclaimed, fiercely. "But it is the bold who win. Such things always seem impossible till they are done. Timid people sneer at them before, and stupidly wonder at them after they are accomplished.

See what boldness can do!" pointing to the picture of Charlotte Corday. "Who would not have pronounced her plan an absurdity had she declared it before completing its execution? She kept her own counsel, and the tyrant fell!"

The gentleman gave a little shiver. "Yes," he said, " and she lost her head." "True! But that does not always follow. She was one, we are many. We have friends on every hand, and we are safe if we will be united and prompt as well as bold. Otherwise there is nothing for us but total defeat. Our armies are going to be beaten, Mr. Canby. It is only a question of time. Our salvation is not in shooting mechanics in the field, but in stabbing our foes in the cabinet. Let me give you another instance, nearer home, of what boldness can do. Look at the escape of Colonel Burkmar! Who would not have laughed at the idea of a half-starved prisoner strangling a Confederate officer directly under the eyes of the guard, putting on his uniform, and riding away on his horse in broad daylight, killing a sentinel on the way, and making his escape without detection? It is impossible, but it happened."

"It can be done," said Lester, coolly, sweeping the hair back from his forehead with a hand on which was a diamond that sparkled and flashed at every motion. "I will look out for the president."

Mrs. Seymore's lip parted with a bright, swift smile, and she extended her hand to him:

"That is well!" she said, emphatically. "But-" with a touch of railery-"you must not strike a blow, nor fire a shot, with that imprisoned sunbeam on your finger to betray you."

promise not to ask for it till I can bring you a gift far more valuable."

"Give me John the Baptist's head in a charger," she whispered, looking at him with gleaming eyes.

"By what sign shall I know him?"

"I hate Lincoln for the sake of the South," she said. "But Colonel Burkmar I hate for my own sake!"

"I have a bullet for him," said Lester, coolly. "He and I have an old reckoning.” "What does Cleaveland say, Sanford ?" asked Mr. Canby, abruptly.

"He also says that our army will fail in the end," was the reply, "and that we must use them as auxiliaries to the knife nearer home. His motto is, strike at the root of the tree. He has twenty thousand dollars in gold to be used in the work."

As this man spoke, he raised his eyes to look at Mrs. Seymore who sat opposite him with her back towards the chamber door. There was no light in this room except what shone in from the parlor, but something of which he caught a faint glimpse made Mr. Sanford's jaw drop. But only for an instant.

"He has come to an understanding with several gentlemen who were afraid before of committing themselves," he went on, slowly, taking a pencil and paper from his pocket, and with apparent carelessness and absence of mind scribbling with them as he talked. "He has the names, and definite promises of half a dozen more at the North. I do not know whether I am to repeat to-night all that he told me."

While speaking, he pushed the paper across the table toward Mrs. Seymore.

Her eyes had flashed out with a startled gaze as she watched him, and her face grew yet white as she read:

"There are armed men in your chamber." "He did not request me not to give names to-night," he went on, slowly, his eyes downcast and fixed on the table.

For one instant Mrs. Seymore sat rigid, but she controlled herself the next. Here she broke in with a voice which might have been a little sharper than ordinary, perhaps, but which was otherwise unchanged:

"I think we had better not have the matter more fully explained till to-morrow night," she said. "Indeed, but that I was so eager

"Wear it till I can claim it back as a reward for the deed accomplished," he said. "I

first that I had to propose an adjournment. The three most important persons in this enterprise could not come to-night. We have

one from the White House, a new friend whom I will introduce to you to-morrow night, and I shall have the honor also to entertain a Northern senator. He would not come till he should see if you got off safely this time. We can do nothing to-morrow, but when all have met we will settle the whole plan and execute it at once. I have received messages from others; among them a man high in one of the departments, a man whom our friend here, Mr. Sanford, knows well, but does not dream is working for us; and another from a Confederate officer who is in the Northern army masquerading in the most laughable costume. He will be in Washington to-morrow, and have a word to say about Banks, and some other officers. Moreover, we shall have a messenger from Davis. He was detained at City Point, but will be here to-morrow night. And now, gentlemen, will you pardon me if I own to being sleepy? I am sorry that you came here only to be sent away, but it will not be so again. To-morrow night will settle all."

She rose with a slight yawn, and the others rose with her, all with pale faces, but keeping their self-control admirably. Both Lester and Canby had seen the flash of steel as the light shone into the back room from the parlor. "I will let you out by this door, instead of sending you through my room again," she said, quietly, opening the door into the entry. "Be careful! I will go up and fasten the trap after you."

With nerves and teeth set, the three men crept softly up the stairs, expecting every instant to hear a click, or feel a hand upon their shoulders. But there was no sound nor touch. The ready ruse of their hostess had succeeded, and the carefully-laid plan of Major Winfield was baffled by the little widow's address. Rejecting the belief that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, the men who were to arrest the four conspirators had been dazzled by the prospect of the revelations promised for the next night, and the important persons then to fall into their hands. Of course it would be perfectly easy to keep these four under their eyes during the next twenty-four hours, and to arrest them at any minute they should choose.

Mrs. Seymore's eyes shone in the dark as she came gliding down the stairs to her parlor again.

She went to the fire and held her small cold hands before the blaze for a moment, then took a taper from the mantel-piece, lighted it, and extinguished the gas.

"I am so sleepy! so sleepy!" she repeated, dreamily, walking with a slow, firm step towards her chamber, and going in without looking to right or left. She crossed the room, set her taper on a stand at the head of the bed, and then closed the doors, affecting not to hear a slight rattling noise on the stairs.

A detective had gone up through the house of Mrs. Seymore's next door neighbor and followed the conspirators down into her house, opening her street door to his assistants. Four men had listened to the conversation in her parlor, and a dozen more waited outside. These four had withdrawn, unseen as they supposed, while she went up to let her accomplices out.

Once alone, she stood for an instant listening, her lips pale and parted, her eyes glassy. Then, after searching the room thoroughly, she laid down on the bed without taking her clothes off, and remained there till daylight.

The next morning Mrs. Seymore was seen at her window, she drove out about noon, and returned home to dinner. The three men were also about all day, and were seen to go home towards evening. It was known that all three refused some invitation for the evening, being otherwise engaged, they said.

It is needless to say that the wonderful plot for catching the conspirators was a fiasco. The four melted away somewhere at twilight. Where the men were secreted, or where they went, was not known, but they escaped. A young man who took the eight o'clock train for Baltimore that evening, remembered afterwards having been much struck by the pallid face of a young lad who cowered, sleepy and cold, in the corner of the car. The boy's shaggy black hair hung over his brows, and he seemed to be weeping. Somebody said he was weeping for a soldier brother who had just died in a hospital at Washington. The young man remembered when it was too late, where he had seen that thin, white face and those pale, blue eyes; but meantime Mrs. Seymore was half way across the ocean to England.

CHAPER XII.

JOVE AND DANE.

CORA had not intended to visit Boston before sailing for Europe, but the entreaties

and reproaches of the Jamesons, and a piece of news contained in a letter from Helen, decided her on going. Helen wrote that she was engaged to Vasari, and asked her friend's congratulations.

"I know that he did love you," she wrote, "but I think he loves me now. Come and let him see us together."

Cora went immediately, starting the week after Mrs. Seymore's escape. Her heart reproached her when she met the warm and generous welcome of these friends whom she accused herself of having barely tolerated. Mrs. Jameson received her as a mother might receive a beloved daughter, and no sister could be more joyfully affectionate than Helen.

"It seems like coming home," Cora said, as they hung about her, caressing and waiting on her, wondering, relating and questioning all at once. "I am almost sorry that I am going away."

"I haven't the slightest intention of allowing you to go," Helen said, very decidedly. "You are to stay and be my bridesmaid. Jove is to be groomsman. Hush! mother is coming back with another cup of coffee, and I don't want her to hear. O, we are to have wonderful doings. Mother, do stop patting Cora's shoulder. You've patted that same spot twenty-five times since she came. It must be black and blue."

"What do you mean by Jove?" asked Cora, at the first opportunity. "Do you know who your benefactor is ?"

"Certainly, dear! I knew a year and a half ago. But don't imagine that I'm going to spoil my little drama by telling you before the proper time. I want to bring the house down."

Helen went about in the wildest spirits all day. Cora had lain down, but could scarcely rest for her, and was glad to get up to escape her teasing.

"Helen," she said, "is your Jove Vasari ?" Helen laughed at the idea.

"Why, Vasari is rich enough in fame, but has no great burden of worldly goods. He couldn't afford to give me a diamond ring, but wooed me with a pearl. No, wait till I am ready to tell. But, by the way, did I tell you that Colonel Burkmar is in town?"

"I thought he was in Alexandria," Cora said, with a start that sent the blood over her face in a rosy tide.

"That he has been there does not oblige him to stay forever," Helen said, turning

carelessly away, but coming immediately back again. "I want you to dress your prettiest to-night, Cora," she said. “Open your trunks and let me see what you have there." Cora tossed her the keys.

"We are going to have a quiet little dinner, only us three," Helen went on, "but Vasari is coming up this evening, and I want you to look your best. He shall choose with his eyes open, and not have you suddenly blaze out on him by-and-by when it is too late, and make him hate me."

The girl spoke laughingly, but her cheeks were a deep crimson, and her friend could see the swelling of tears under the lowered eyelids.

You child, what a silly fancy," she exclaimed. "Vasari does not think of me. He probably took a fancy to me as an artist does to any good-looking lady, but it was not love. He never offered himself to me. Besides, it is already too late."

"Too late to win you, but not too late to get rid of me if he wishes to," Helen replied, proudly.

"But he loves you, Helen, or he would not have asked you to be his wife."

Helen looked up at her friend from where she was kneeling before the trunk, and seemed to consider for a moment. Cora sat there leaning wearily back in an arm-chair, looking drooping for herself and pitiful of her friend. To Cora in some moods she could not have spoken; but that face was sad and tender, and invited her confidence.

"Let me tell you," Helen said, and went to hide her face in Cora's lap.

But for several minutes she could not say a word, only leaned there sobbing as if her heart would break.

'My dear Helen, what is it?" asked her friend, in alarm.

The girl dashed her tears away, and drew a long, tremulous breath.

"There, that relieves me," she said. "I've had it on my mind, or body, this long time, and now I feel better. Don't fancy that I am going to tell you anything tragical, for I am not. It is only this, Vasari says he loves me, and I believe him; but, Cora, he took me at first out of pity, and I can't forget that. This was the way it happened. After you went away he was very strange for a time, and used to come here and speak of you as though he didn't care anything for you. But I knew that he did, and that he only came to hear of you. After a while he spoke of going away,